Chapter 24
Ahuddled, snow-dusted figure climbed into the skytrain’s car and stomped twice to kick slush off their boots before trudging toward the back.
“Pid pong-tai!” snarled the irritable man seated across from the sliding double doors.
Arco couldn’t blame him for not wanting a face full of snow, but cursing at the doors for the last three stops hadn’t made them close any faster. Why he stayed in that seat was a mystery.
Arco adjusted her face scarf and tapped her acknowledgment.
Her team shouldn’t be there at all, but she had to admit she was glad to have them.
Especially since crafty Minan had no compunctions about using her tech implant to convince public systems to give her privileged access and assistance.
Without her, the trip would have been an exhausting marathon rather than a sprint.
Life had gone chaotic soon after Arco had sneaked into Novo Granica’s offices that morning. She met with Nilsson, the newest team member, while the rest of the team went to scrounge breakfast. The food cart vendors left early in the deteriorating weather.
Nilsson scouted the office area while Arco finalized her exit arrangements. She’d just finished organizing her Novo G work for hand-off when an emergency alert tone sounded on all tech throughout the building. Moments later, Tapio himself came online via holo to tell them why.
“Reliable, credible sources tell us the CPS and the Ridderth police are only hours away from launching hundreds of strikes that will surpass the Mabingion Purge five years ago. This time, the targets include media companies large and small, with Novo Granica at the top of the list.”
Tapio’s grave but calm tone riveted her.
“We’ve shared our intel with other companies and pooled our information.
I just sent you all a ping ref for an anonymously published map and target list. Multi-confirmed sources are in red.
Blue means unconfirmed, but multiple sources.
Gray means rumor. Share it with anyone you care about. ”
Arco committed the ping-ref to memory.
“We’re activating the crisis response protocol.
Gather your critical gear and follow the guidance from Security on how and when to leave.
We must be out by twelve-hundred hours. The storm will hide our evacuation, but make it harder to scatter effectively.
Protect yourself, protect your family. Leave Ridderth if you can.
Better yet, leave Mabingion.” His expression turned steely.
“Report on anything and everything as long as you can do it safely. Upload to the auxiliary reserve dataspace. We’ll find a way to broadcast it.
People’s stories need to be told, now more than ever.
” The holo version of Tapio reached for a control.
“Be safe. Take care. We will be together again.” His last, weighted words were delivered with grave certainty.
The holo faded.
Arco stood and nodded to Nilsson, who was already standing. “Come on, let’s find—”
The office door opened to reveal Minan, with Tōn Ko and N’Dwama right behind her.
Arco stooped to pick up her bag. “You’ve all been great. I’ll give you all ten-star referrals and an early termination bonus. Go get your stuff and get out of here.”
Minan put her hands on her hips. “Where are we going?”
“We? I’m...” Arco shook her head. “I haven’t decided.”
“Not true,” said N’Dwama with the certainty of a sifter who could detect lies.
Arco frowned. “CPS interrogators can’t make you tell them what you don’t know.” She blew out an exasperated breath. “If media companies are targets and Novo G tops the hit parade, Pennington-Smythe is involved. She hates me. I’m a prime target, right after Tapio.”
Tōn Ko crossed his arms. “In that case, with Brenner on injured reserve, you need protection more than ever.”
Arco glared at them. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re all fired.” She slung her bag’s strap across her shoulder.
Nilsson, who’d been watching the conversation like it was a gravball match, cleared her throat. “Actually, you can’t fire us. We work for Novo G.”
Arco pulled her coat from the back of her chair. “Then you heard the boss’s orders. Protect yourself, protect your family. Scatter.” She waved her fingers. “Shoo.”
“You don’t get it,” said Minan. “None of us has anyone else here to protect but each other. This” — she circled a finger to mean all of them — “is our family. You are our family. We’re scattering with you.”
Arco gave them each a hard, questioning look, but they met her gaze with stubborn determination.
Even Nilsson nodded. “My closest relatives are on the other side of the galaxy. This is the job we signed up for.”
Arco’s eyes stung. “Ah, frelling hell. I will be deeply and forever peeved if any of you get hurt because of me.” She wiped at the tears with her sleeve. “I’m… we’re going to the studio for Brenner. After that, the spaceport.”
She’d stomped out with bad grace, headed for the lockers where she knew her team kept their gear. They’d followed closely like they were afraid she’d bolt if they didn’t keep an eye on her.
Guilt plagued her then and still did for having left Brenner at all, though she’d made the best decision she could at the time. Now all she wanted was to get back to him and make it right.
Of course, there had been no simple jetting out the door.
Owing to the storm, the Ridderth traffic control system had already begun grounding non-essential traffic.
Novo G Security used every trick they knew to get several loaded flitters and autocabs off the roof before the TCS flatly refused to allow any air traffic that wasn’t a registered first responder.
Since she and her team had bad-weather outerwear with them, ground transportation was their best bet for getting out of the media district. Novo G Security controlled their departures so they wouldn’t flood the public systems and make themselves easier to track.
When it was finally her group’s turn to leave, they headed straight for the sky trains, the only public transportation that reliably served the Canals.
It worried her that the studio was offline and that neither Soleil nor Haseem had responded to multiple callback requests.
She kicked herself for not making a point to get ping refs for Josh or some of the other students.
And it would be unwise to leave cryptic messages about the anonymously posted raid maps without explanation.
For the first leg of the trip, her team paired her with Nilsson and Minan as a trio. N’Dwama and Tōn Ko followed as seemingly unrelated passengers. They switched it up for subsequent connections, swapping scarves, hoods, bags, and even coats to mislead surveillance subroutines.
Record snowfall slowed even the sky trains to a crawl. She and Minan both monitored the net. By thirty minutes after midday, raw vids of spectacular building boom-downs began to surface. So much for hoping the weather would delay the CPS and the police for a day, or at least a few hours.
Then a short message from Brenner had changed everything. “Don’t take off without me.”
Her heart leaped. Gaia’s sweet breath, but would it have killed the man to say more than five words?
The rational part of her brain pointed out that he’d been smart not to give anything away with his answer. The same reason she’d used circumspect language in her offer of a partnership, and why she’d left coordinates only in the local memory of his percomp.
Taking a couple of deep, countdown breaths helped her deal with unexpected emotional flurries.
She needed to see his face. Needed to take him up on that hug he’d once offered.
Needed to apologize. Shoving all that aside, she replied with a short message of her own about fireworks and where to meet, then tapped her security earwire to subvocalize to her team.
“Change of plan. We’re going straight to the spaceport to meet Brenner.” Or so she profoundly hoped.
After that, Minan cajoled the skytrain’s AI into recommending the fastest path and rerouting their group around congestion.
Arco followed her team’s instructions, grateful for their expertise.
Whenever she could, she took window seats and focused two of her tiniest cameras on the passing scenery.
Mostly, they recorded wind-driven snow squalls, but occasionally, views of recent ruins where buildings once stood.
Once she got to the spaceport, she’d edit out all her watermarks and donate them to Novo G’s baseline dataset for the cause.
The closer they got to their destination, the more she worried they’d be walking into chaos.
The skytrains weren’t clogged with people yet, but once the vids and reports started trending, they would be.
The spaceport would be an order of magnitude worse.
Her way off the planet was passage on a freighter owned by an independent trader she trusted, but her exit plans hadn’t accounted for natural catastrophes or human calamities.
Or having a whole team, for that matter.
She sent a quick ping asking for a couple of extra spillover party rooms.
Her earwire alerted to an incoming message from Soleil’s studio, timestamped two hours ago. The bad weather apparently blocked satellite access and made the city’s comms infrastructure as balky as the traffic control system.
“Your injured-reserve left early on foot without saying goodbye. We’re all leaving soon for a long vacation. Our boat’s big enough for you and the rest of your entourage. Ping us if you want to join the fun.”
Arco pulled the scarf up over her nose. She wasn’t good at keeping her emotions off her face when she’d had zero sleep in thirty-six hours. Entourage? What vacation? Whose boat? And how was Brenner even awake, much less walking, and where the fuck was he going?
Another incoming message pinged, this one from only twenty minutes ago.